


Let Me Help You

by MegaSheep



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre Episode 8, Slow Dancing, Two bois bein' soft, post episode 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaSheep/pseuds/MegaSheep
Summary: Viktor can't sleep. Yuuri is there for him.
Or
The one where they slow dance at three in the morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i s2g this actually started as pure fluff
> 
> but viktor has feelings, and i couldn't ignore them
> 
> i'm bad at coming up with titles, i'm sorry
> 
> yoi: the show that actually inspired me to write fic

****It was well past midnight when Yuuri wakes from a rather fitful sleep. It’s not unusual for him to have a difficult time sleeping before a big event. After all, tomorrow they would leave for Moscow and the Rostelecom Cup.

 

He was burrowed quite comfortably in the bed, his body curled towards the middle. Yuuri stretched his arm out, expecting to find Viktor, but instead his hand only found cold sheets.

 

_He_ finally _gets me to sleep in the same bed as him, and now he’s not here?_ Yuuri thought with some amusement. When he finally decided to open his eyes, he noticed a soft, warm light coming from across the room. “Viktor?” he murmured, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and lifting his head enough to see over the mound of blankets that Viktor had amassed on his bed in the inn.

 

In the corner of the room, Yuuri spotted a blurry, moving shape that could only belong to Viktor. Yuuri grasped blindly at the nightstand until he found his glasses. Now that he could see properly, he noticed that Viktor was hunched over his suitcase, rifling through it, unaware of Yuuri. His light hair was sticking up at odd angles; a sure sign of tossing and turning.

 

“Viktor,” he repeated, his voice still rough with sleep. Viktor’s head swiveled when he heard Yuuri’s voice, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked _tired_. “What are you doing up at,” Yuuri paused to look at the clock, “three in the morning?” It wasn’t the first time Yuuri had seen Viktor up this late, but he was usually just coming to bed, carrying with him the scent of alcohol. When he went to bed at the same time as Yuuri, he stayed put until morning.

 

The gentle smile on Viktor’s face faltered. “Just looking for something. Go back to sleep,” he replied, bowing his head. From the bed, Yuuri could see a little crease forming between his brows.

 

Most of the time, Viktor was smiling, or at least had a pleased expression on his face. But ever since the kiss in China, ever since they made this thing that had been building between them official; Viktor had been consciously letting his mask slip more often around Yuuri.

 

However, Viktor was unaware of just how much of his true self Yuuri had already seen.

 

To anyone else, Viktor was, well, as he always was. He drank merrily with Minako, he curled up with Makkachin, he slung his arm around Yuuri at dinner. But when it was just the two of them, he was different. When Viktor was alone with Yuuri, sometimes his smile didn’t completely reach his eyes. Other times, Yuuri caught him daydreaming, his mouth tugged downward into a small frown.

 

Spending over half a year in close proximity to someone allowed one to see past the façade, to see the true self. Eventually, Yuuri was able to tell the difference between Viktor Nikiforov, and just _Viktor_.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, shifting so that he was sitting up.

 

Viktor hummed in response, one hand closing around the object he was looking for: an mp3 player. “I can’t sleep, so I thought music would help,” he replied.

 

“Is there anything I can— “

 

“Just go back to sleep, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri frowned, locking eyes with Viktor. The older man had since learned from the Cup of China to listen to Yuuri when he was upset, to ask him what he needed. He was still apparently having trouble understanding that the same went for him, as well.

 

It was painfully obvious that something had been bothering Viktor for a few days, but every time Yuuri had tried to bring it up, Viktor would abruptly change the topic.

 

With a sigh, Yuuri swung his legs over the bed, bracing his hands against the edge of the mattress. Viktor was deviating, and he knew it. “You have to let me help you,” he said, furrowing his brows.

 

Viktor stiffened visibly at that, his grip tightening on the small mp3 player. He looked ready to deflect again, but Yuuri simply kept staring at him, waiting.

 

Viktor considered him for a moment longer, before striding – Viktor didn’t walk, he elegantly _strode_ – to a small speaker sitting on the dresser. He plugged in the mp3 player to it, and pressed a button. A sweet piano melody rang out, filling the air with soft music. He made his way back to the younger man, holding a hand out. “Dance with me.”

 

It wasn’t what he had hoped for, but it was _something_.

 

Yuuri reached out, gently grabbing Viktor’s hand. It was warm and soft. He was pulled to his feet and tugged closer to Viktor’s bare chest. Wordlessly, Yuuri snaked one arm around Viktor’s waist, the other moving to grab his hand. The older man did the same, and then they began to slowly rotate.

 

Their dance was a wordless conversation, in a language for them, and them alone. Physical nearness wasn’t new for them, but this was something else. This gentle, quiet, closeness was somehow more intimate than a kiss. Yuuri moved his hand from Viktor’s so that he was caressing his cheek instead. Even sleep deprived, Yuuri noted, Viktor was still breathtaking.

 

The music swelled, enveloping them more. Viktor sighed, lowering his head so that it rested on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri, in response, moved his hand to the back of Viktor’s head, almost cradling it. This close, Yuuri could make out Viktor’s distinct scent; a cologne with notes of pine trees and the woods and something else that couldn’t be described in any other way but manly. To Yuuri, this was a scent he now took comfort in.

 

Months ago, being at this close of proximity to Viktor would have given Yuuri heart palpitations. But now, _now_ , his heart simply swelled with something more.

 

The song ended, and on came the next, just as beautiful. Their bodies moved in time with the slow music; they were in the center of their own universe.

 

_I could stay like this for the rest of the night, and probably still feel well rested_ , Yuuri mused to himself. He gently stroked the hairs at the base of Viktor’s head, which resulted in a small shudder from the other man.

 

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the other’s embrace, slowly moving to piano ballads. Yuuri was slowly beginning to lose himself to this moment.

 

“They’re forgetting about me,” Viktor finally murmured, his breath tickling Yuuri’s collar bone.

 

Yuuri, lost in the music, was somewhat startled at the abruptness of what Viktor had just said. He took a few moments to process the statement, before asking, “what do you mean?”

 

“Skating was – still is – my whole life,” he explained, “you work for _years_ , and when you decide to take a break, they start to move on in a few months.”

 

Yuuri’s shoulders tensed. “Do… do you regret becoming my coach— “

 

“No!” Viktor protested, causing Yuuri to flinch. Viktor’s grip on Yuuri’s waist tightened for a moment, before relaxing again. When he spoke next, his voice was softer, “no, of course not, Yuuri. It’s probably one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, and I don’t regret it for a second. But…” Viktor sucked in a shaky breath, moving his head so that they were forehead to forehead. His eyes were downcast, staring at both of their chests, rising and falling.

 

“When you’re at the top for so long,” he began, meeting Yuuri’s gaze, “it’s kind of a slap in the face for them to move on so quickly.” Yuuri could see the crease between Viktor’s brows forming again. He wanted to make it go away. “I feel like I’ve been cast aside,” Viktor revealed, his grip tightening again on Yuuri’s waist. “It makes everything I’ve ever worked towards seem like a waste of time,” his voice was barely above the whisper, almost blending in with the piano music around them. Almost.

 

Yuuri had never known what it was like to be on top, but he imagined it to be lonely. However, he did understand what it was like to feel like all of your hard work was a waste of time. He knew exactly how it felt pour your heart and soul into something, only for it all to crumble. His mind briefly wandered to last year’s Grand Prix, before focusing on Viktor again.

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri sighed, pulling back some.

 

_He isn’t just allowing me a_ glimpse _of the real Viktor,_ Yuuri thought. _He’s removed his mask completely_.

 

“Nothing you’ve done could ever be a waste of time,” Yuuri said, moving both of his hands to rest on Viktor’s shoulders, his grip loose and warm. “You’re the person you are today because of your experiences.”

 

Viktor’s head tilted down, breaking eye contact with Yuuri.

 

“Yes, you’re not at the top anymore,” Yuuri began, moving a hand to Viktor’s chin, gently guiding his head up again, so that he would meet his eyes. “But, I don’t think they could ever forget about _you_ ,” he concluded.

 

Viktor stilled, bringing their dancing to a halt. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes shone. A small tear rolled down Viktor’s cheek, and Yuuri gently swiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

 

It occurred to Yuuri, then, that he had never seen Viktor cry before.

 

Viktor leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Yuuri’s lips. The younger man kissed back, warm and slow. When they broke apart, Viktor was smiling, eyes still glistening.

 

“You never cease to amaze me,” Viktor marvelled.

 

Yuuri hummed in response, smiling against Viktor’s lips.

 

They stood like that for the remainder of the song that was playing, until Yuuri realized that Viktor would probably stay like that until morning, if he let him. Yuuri wouldn’t necessarily mind, since he could probably nap on the plane. But he had seen a sleep deprived Viktor a few times before, and he tended to be a scatterbrain. Viktor also happened to be the one who had their plane tickets.

 

“Come on,” Yuuri said, planting one last chaste kiss against Viktor’s lips. “Our flight’s early, and you haven’t slept at all,” he commented. Viktor sighed, before nodding in response.

 

He removed himself from Viktor, moving to turn the music off, and then the light. The pair moved into bed, settling under the covers, which had since grown cold. Removing his glasses, Yuuri shuffled closer to Viktor, so that his chest was pressed flush against the other’s back. His arm snaked around Viktor’s waist, holding the two of them together.

 

The quiet of the night blanketed them, the only sound being their soft breathing. Yuuri felt Viktor’s hand cover his own, before lacing their fingers together. He could feel the tension slowly leaving the older man’s muscles.

 

Yuuri knew that what he had said wouldn’t fix how Viktor was feeling. But that was alright. It wasn’t his duty to mend Viktor’s emotions; it was his job to be there for him when he needed support. He felt that Viktor was beginning to understand this.

 

“Thank you,” Viktor whispered.

 

Yuuri smiled against Viktor’s back, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades.

  
He lay there listening to Viktor’s breathing even out, feeling his own body grow heavy as he relaxed. Even as he finally drifted off to sleep, his hand was still loosely intertwined with Viktor’s.

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to [CheckersXIV](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CheckersXIV) for beta-ing. tru mvp
> 
> This show has destroyed me, along with these two idiots.
> 
> Come yell on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HoshiPoshii) with me!
> 
> Kudos, comments, and suggestions appreciated! Thank you!


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